’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. ’ ‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. ’ Roding’s voice changed. The bedding was removed; Mrs.
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